


The Pyromaniac

by I_Am_A_Monster



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6355036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_A_Monster/pseuds/I_Am_A_Monster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn had heard a lot about Kisa Camden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pyromaniac

**Author's Note:**

> These are my original characters. There will be more of these stories over time. Please ask to use them or their names.

Kisa was famous.

She likes fire, likes fighting, likes talking back.

She steals, she’s got a Juvie record.

 _Psychopath_ , people called her. _Pyromaniac._

Quinn didn’t know if these rumors were true, but the words following Kisa Camden around were damning—what kind of person must Kisa be if she earned such a reputation?

\--O--

Quinn had first met Kisa three weeks into high school. 

Well, _really_ she had met her when the brown-haired girl had transferred from Wyoming in eighth grade. Kisa was popular, in an “I’m not a jerk about it” kind of way. She carried a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, somehow ending up with the good ones, though she didn’t smoke. This made her the go-to for the smokers, few as they were in junior high, though more and more came to her as they headed for high school. She was also athletic, able to keep up with the Track. She liked to punch and kick, which meant that no one messed with her—Quinn would always remember Joey Brown teasing Kisa in the near winter break, how Joey ended up in the nurse’s office with a bloody nose and two black eyes.

Quinn steered clear of Kisa. Quinn wasn’t socially awkward (well, most of the time) but she definitely wasn’t in with the “cool” kids. Kisa spelled attention—and trouble.

Quinn had noticed, as she always did, that though Kisa may have been surrounded by people, but she was never _with_ people. She was invited to parties—she had an _amazing_ collection of fireworks, too, despite them being illegal—but when Quinn saw her in the halls or in the classrooms, she was never with anyone.

Therefore, it came as a great surprise when Kisa marched up to some jocks that were teasing Quinn and plopped down next to her.

“Isn’t it lovely when there are people who’ve got nothing better to do than to be jerks?” Kisa asked her, loudly.

“Uh,” Quinn said intelligently, unsure of what was happening and why the strange girl was sitting next to her. However, a glance at the jocks showed that they had vanished.

 _Never mess with Kisa Camden_ , was the unspoken rule of their class. Enough students from their junior high had gone to this school that rumors of Kisa had spread like wildfire. Older students had begun avoiding her as well; Quinn heard them whispering in the halls, comparing Kisa to other troublemakers before her.

_She once blew up a joint. Mark Hill ain’t ever don’t that. She once beat a guy twice her size into a pulp. She’s tougher than Lizzie Smith—y’know, from two years ago? She once had a knife, must ‘a been seven inches long, and the teachers were too scared to take it off her . . ._

Quinn made a conscious effort not to move away from Kisa. Kisa was unpredictable, a loner . . . Most people thought she was a lunatic. One rule her mom had always taught her—go along with crazy people. It gave you a better chance to live.

Kisa dug something out of her pocket, but before Quinn could even begin to feel worried, Kisa held out a lollipop.

Quinn stared at it.

“Want it?” Kisa asked, shaking it slightly.

 _What the hell?_ Quinn wondered. However, she knew a peace token when she saw one. 

“Sure,” Quinn said, taking the sucker carefully. Kisa watched her with grey-blue eyes, playful, yet with a serious glint that made Quinn vaguely uncomfortable.

Quinn carefully undid the wrapper and held the crinkly waxen paper pinched between forefinger and thumb before she stuck the mulish blue glob into her mouth.

Raspberry, Quinn thought, or a drunken person’s idea of raspberry. The sweet coated her tongue, the bulbous candy sitting in the cavity between her tongue and her teeth. She did not eat candy often, and the taste was unfamiliar and somewhat disgusting.

“So,” Kisa said, bending over her ratty backpack and pulling out a sandwich. “Whadda ya think of Mr. Grey’s paper?”

Today seemed to be a day where odd things happened, including talking to a maybe-arsonist about a grueling social studies paper. Quinn shuffled the lollipop around in her mouth and tucked her feet under her legs.

“Is he serious?” Quinn grumbled, voice slightly muffled by her candy. “A paper due, and it isn’t even a full month in. It’s like he was part of the Spanish Inquisition in a past life.”

Kisa threw back her head and laughed.

\--O--

After that, Kisa hung out with Quinn more, and Quinn soon came to enjoy their time together. Kisa would seek her out during lunch, offer something to Quinn—candy, sometimes, though sometimes it was a granola bar or a sandwich—and after a while, Quinn began bringing treats along with her own lunch to trade.

If this is what friendship felt like, Quinn could live with it. She was considered weird by many people—while other kids watched cable or played on a DS, Quinn could be found with a book curled in a corner. Kisa never made fun of her for this, and instead would often borrow novels from her, retuning them in perfect condition.

“Hey,” Kisa said one day, nearly two months into the semester. Quinn looked up from where she had been watching some upperclassmen chasing each other, enjoying the sun, and saw someone else with Kisa. The low wall she was sitting on, where a raise garden, nearly dead, rested behind her, was a favorite spot of hers and she sat there for lunch often.

“Hi,” the girl said. She looked Middle Eastern, with tanned skin, dark eyes, and a slightly hooked nose. Her dark brown hair hung down to just past her shoulders, and she was only slightly shorter than Kisa. No surprise there; Kisa was nearly six feet tall.

“This is Cate,” Kisa supplied. “She’s my friend.”

“Somehow,” Cate said, a sparkle appearing in her eyes. Kisa snickered and flopped down next to Quinn.

“Hi,” Quinn said cordially. “I’m Quinn Alrick.”

“Oh, I know,” Cate said. “Kisa’s been meaning to introduce us. She wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Kisa said. “I told you about her, like, once.”

“At least five,” Cate countered, carefully sitting down on the ground in front of Quinn. Quinn, thinking that the height difference was slightly unfair, slid to the ground so that she and Cate could be on the same level. She saw surprise flicker across Cate’s face and merely offered the other girl a smile.

“Don’t count,” Kisa muttered, not moving from the wall. “No counting allowed.”

“Well excuse me.” Cate rolled her eyes. “Didn’t know I needed your permission for everything.”

“Just most things,” Quinn said. “You’re new, right?”

Cate nodded. “Moved here from out of state. I’ve seen you around, though.”

“I haven’t seen you,” Quinn said. “Sorry.”

“That’s ‘cause you’ve got your nose buried in a book all the time,” Kisa said. Quinn glanced over her shoulder to see the other girl lying on her back, legs bent, hair scattered everywhere, lazily watching them.

“True,” Quinn conceded.

“I love reading,” Cate said. “What are you reading now?”

And just like that, Quinn suddenly had two friends.

\--O--

Four years passed, and Quinn, Kisa, and Cate were still friends senior year. Quinn had been sitting in her art class when the wail of the fire alarm caused everyone to jump, staring up at the little flashing while light.

While the teacher told everyone to exit in a “calm and orderly fashion”, Quinn tried to figure out what was happening. Test run? No, the teacher looked just as surprised as they were. Had someone left a pop tart in the microwave for too long? That was more likely.

These thoughts died when Quinn walked out of the school to the sight of smoke, fire, and shrieking teenagers. Her first thought was _are Kisa and Cate okay?_

She didn’t see anyone hurt, and while there were police and fire trucks, it seemed no ambulance had been called.

In the parking lot, a car was on fire. Its windows had mostly shattered, and the blast of water did little to quench the flames. The police were trying to hold the crowd back; they were pushing as shoving one another, phones held up as people took pictures or recorded the incident.

“What happened?” Quinn asked one of the juniors.

“That psychopath Camden,” was her reply.

 _No,_ Quinn thought, looking at the wreckage of the car. Kisa, no.

There was an investigation. Kisa hadn’t been in class, apparently, but the several Track team members remembered seeing her by the bleachers right before the explosion. As the principal spoke with the police, Quinn could tell he wanted to expel Kisa, wanted to sue her, throw her in jail—Kisa was eighteen, so no Juvie for her—he couldn’t. There was no proof Kisa had set the fire. There were no witnesses, there was no confession, and there was no evidence.

Instead, she got a suspension and detention for the rest of the school year. The principal claimed it was for skipping class, but everyone knew it was his way of punishing her.

Quinn and Cate heard whispers, about them, about Kisa, for the next few weeks. Everyone knew that they were friends, and both Quinn and Cate refused to talk tell anyone anything. Quinn barely saw Kisa; Kisa’s mom was torn between furious and indignant, and clearly did not know who to believe, the school or her daughter. When Quinn came over to deliver Kisa’s homework, she could hear Kisa’s parents yelling at each other, arguing about everything. Kisa looked miserable. She told Quinn one afternoon that she had been grounded and her allowance revoked.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said. _Just tell them what really happened._

Kisa wouldn’t look at her, wincing as something was thrown. “It’s fine. Thank you.”

“Come over if you need to,” Quinn whispered.

Kisa said nothing, but Quinn thought she saw her nod her head as she backed away and closed her door.

 _Pyromaniac, Arsonist_ , Quinn thought later one night. It was nearing twelve, and both her parents had gone to bed two hours before. Quinn had, too, but she couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind was too chaotic.

It had been a long time since she had thought too deeply about the rumors surrounding Kisa, but now they were back in full force, following Quinn around school like a sullen cloud. Quinn was thankful her parents believed her when she told them she didn’t think Kisa had set fire to the car; she wasn’t sure she would have been able to not see Kisa—Kisa meant the world to her.

Almost as if her thoughts had summoned her, there was a _tap-tap_ at her window. She rolled over and opened it, allowing Kisa to tumble inside. It was not her normal graceful land—it was clumsy, limbs flailing. When she was finally inside, her friend just lay there on the ground, staring up at the ceiling.

“Don’t tell Cate,” Kisa said without looking at Quinn, “but I think I fucked up.”

Kisa never swore—not unless it was serious. She had Quinn’s attention immediately.

Kisa looked over at her, and Quinn saw tears in her eyes. She lay down on the floor next to Kisa, their arms touching softly and their hair pooling together.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Quinn asked quietly.

Kisa put the back of her wrist to the bridge of her nose and clenched her lips to muffle a sob. “No.”

Quinn nodded and breathed quietly.

There was so much she wanted to ask— _do you know who did it? If so, why don’t you just rat them out? Why can’t you tell the truth? This is hurting you, Kisa—tell me, let me help  
you._

“I’m here,” Quinn said instead.

Kisa sucked in a shuddering breath. “Tell me a story.”

Quinn rolled her head so that their temples were pressed together. “Once there was a fair maiden, who lived in the land that was East of the Sun and West of the Moon, which had been ruled by the Trolls many centuries ago, before a woodcutters daughter and her prince overthrew them. Though it was hard to reach the land, it was prosperous, and the people happy . . .”

Quinn told story after story, her tongue growing numb, until Kisa dropped off to sleep. Then she carefully stood and hoisted her friend onto the bed before curling up beside her. She would have to reassure Mrs. Camden tomorrow, but for now she’d let Kisa rest.

Quinn wouldn’t press the events of the fire and the car. She’d let Kisa tell her in her own time.

That’s the kind of friend Kisa needed her to be.


End file.
